


The Witch's Assistant

by ticklishivories



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Sexual Themes, magical au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 20:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ticklishivories/pseuds/ticklishivories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A witch and her most precious friend make a terrible mistake. But it is just another excuse to run from the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Witch's Assistant

**Author's Note:**

> Preferred reading environment would be a rainy day, a hot cup of tea, and music by Frank Sinatra playing lowly in the background.

 

She loves you. You know it, you are sure of it. Every day, she loves you. It’s when she feeds you by hand, and you nibble the crumbs off her fingers and she giggles. It’s when you are feeling anxious, and she sticks a straw of colorful fur in your cage and teases you until you play with her. It’s when she removes you from your cage and places you on the counter so you can watch her cook. And it’s especially in moments like these, when she is holding you in her arms and caressing your long black ears.

Your eyes are shut and your foot thumps happily as she speaks to you slowly, a waterfall of stories and ancient myths from buried libraries and lost pyramids. You imagine them in their glory, and from your little place on her lap they seem like a universe away. But you can dream about visiting them through the books passed on to her from long dead scholars.

“Plato, as you know, was not just a Greek philosopher, but a mathematician,” Rose continues. You love this story. “He believed that math was perfect, and that it held all the answers to the world and beyond.” Her words weave a picture in your imagination of a utopia thriving thousands of years ago, bustling with geniuses and revolutionaries alike. You wonder if the food tasted different.

“Plato looked at the earth and saw that no perfect shape could naturally exist. He concluded that this world was full of imperfections.” Vocable entrenched with the resolute tone of agreement and melancholy. She would know of the world’s imperfections.

“And then he looked to the sky, and saw the sun. And he realized that it was a perfect circle.”

Rose looks down at you and grins knowingly. Your nose twitches in excitement; you always love these parts of her stories, where she builds on the plot with her romantic style of speaking.

“’The sky must be perfect,’ he said, and then he looked to the ground and sighed with mourning, ‘and the world must be imperfect. I want to be up in that perfect world.’”

She chuckles distantly. How sad an expression; you wish you could console her, but you are just a simple house rabbit.

“And thus, the concept of heaven and hell was born.”

You crawl up her chest and sit on her shoulder, nuzzling your nose against her ear until she starts laughing and plucks you away. She sets you back on her lap and continues her petting.

“Oh, you make it so difficult to stay sad.”

_That is my job!_

Though you can understand her, Rose cannot understand you. Through all her years of magic and studies, she has not found a way to grant you vocal chords. You’ve done some of your own (over the shoulder) studying yourself, but found no possible way to communicate. You are her only friend in the world and yet you cannot hold a conversation with her.

What she needs is people- someone to share her burdens with closely. But the last time she stepped out of her ancient wooden home was as a young girl, bright and new and hopeful about what she could do and who she would be- for it is custom for a young witch to leave home and find their own way in life. But the world was a tumultuous place at the time, and she was caught up in the hatred and the lies and the discrimination. So she ran away, banishing herself to live in the secluded wood off the coast of the town that had driven her away for being who she was. With a simple enchantment, she made sure that no one would ever find her. And she got what she wished for.

She regrets her decision every moment of her immortal life.

You have no problem living alone with her forever. But she is sad, and her sadness infects you like food poisoning, and you’ve been wanting to throw up for years. It’s about time you put an end to this misery.

You leap off her lap in the middle of her petting and she makes a surprised “Oh!” sound. Your little paws bound across the creaking wooden floor and find themselves in the kitchen. Plates and decorative porcelain cats hang on the walls, along with pots and pans and an occasional googly-eyed octopus. With the curtains drawn, the room is draped with a soft shadowy glow, as it always is during this time of day when the sun is too hot to bare casting its rays through the windows. This is the center of the house, where she creates all her potions and casts her wondrous enchantments (and concocts her devilishly delicious meals).

“John, what on earth are you doing?” There is laughter growing in her voice again, and it gives you the boost you need to continue.

Spending so many years as a witch’s apprentice can teach you a thing or two.

She follows you to her potions cabinet, where you run circles in front of it and make her chuckle quietly. She opens the cabinet, and you point your nose towards the bluish bottle on the second shelf.

“This one?” Your ears twitch and she reads the label. “This is for bodily transfiguration.” Rose pinches her brow. “You know I can’t use this, it’s suicidal, and I could blow the roof off the entire house.”

You dance around her feet, waiting for her to understand. “But, this kind of drink is only if you need to regrow your arm, not regrow an entire body.”

If you could, you’d be rolling your eyes. So you take the next step for her and motion towards the second vile on the bottom shelf.

She picks it up. “Essence of Soul Extraction.” You can see understanding finally dawn on her. “Oh. OH.”

You are a genius.

-

Your idea was not entirely original, you have to admit. She’s spent hours poring over books before, losing sleep, trying to find a way to end her loneliness. Rose has already thought of something like this, but it was too dangerous so she wrote it off too quickly. You did not, however, and you’ve been thinking deeply on it for many days. When you presented the bottles of liquid to her, she dashed right off into her study room and shut the door. She did not emerge until the next week, arms full of notes and the exact procedure to follow for the transformation. It’s a good thing you’re immortal too or you would have starved to death!

“John, I think I’ve got it!” She lifts you from your cage and twirls you around in her arms. “It will be dangerous, and there’s about a forty percent chance the transaction might not work, but if it does all this trouble will be worth it in the end.”

Her smile glows, and you haven’t seen her this beautiful in years. You nuzzle her nose with yours and she laughs. It is soft like the chimes that sing on the front porch when the wind picks up.

-

The windows and curtains are all thrown open, and light pours into the usually shadowed cottage. It brightens the scene in the living room, where Rose has her cauldron and all the ingredients laid out in front of her. She taps the ordinary wooden spoon against her chin as she reads over the list of steps she wrote down. You are resting in her lap, watching her closely, making sure that she does not make any foolish mistakes.

“Water, ammonia, carbon, iron, salt…” she mutters under her breath, pointing to each bottle as she goes down the list. “I think we have everything. I’ve measured the amounts several times, but doing it once more shouldn’t hurt.”

You nip her finger and she squeaks. She has measured the ingredients three times already; now she is just procrastinating.

“Alright, alright.” She sets down the small paper and adjusts the hat on her head. It’s only for show, as is the dark flowing robe strapped around her neck, but it gets her in the mood. It makes you laugh internally every time you see her in it.

“Are you sure you want to be here? You are putting yourself in serious danger.”

She looks down at you, worried, and you shake your head. You are going to stay here with her through the entire event. Even if it kills you.

“You are very brave, John. For a rabbit.” She smirks and you nip her finger again.

One by one she empties the ingredients into the cauldron. The liquid and powders all slosh together in the bin and form into murky, oatmeal-like consistency that smells strongly of detergent.  She continues to stir until the powders dissolve and the clumps disappear. Rose’s lips set into a thin line as she sets the spoon on the floor.

“Okay, the easy part is behind us now.” She takes a deep breath and retrieves the cage from behind her. Carefully, she removes the sleeping cat inside.

No, Rose was never planning on using your soul! She is going to use one of her simple house cats for the extraction, because it is far too risky of a procedure to remove a soul from its body. But of course you knew that; you are as competent a magician as Rose is a competent cook.

The cat is limp in her arms, cast under a permanent sleeping spell. It’s a small mercy that Rose provided; this way, the cat will not wake in the middle of the extraction. Apparently soul removal is extremely painful. You figure this makes sense.

“Are you ready?” She asks, seeming strong and resolved. But you catch the tiniest waver in her voice. You wriggle up next to her folded legs. She scratches your ears.

Rose fishes around in her pocket and removes the vile with delicate care. She pops the cap off, and then sprinkles a dash of her own home made powder into the bottle. It’s meant to stretch time, so that when the process begins it will proceed slowly and unrushed. Hopefully the amount of damage can be controlled this way.

But as the witch is preparing the bottle, dust floats into her face and catches under her nostrils. She tries to stop it, but to her horror she sneezes suddenly and violently, and the vile flies out of her hand and tumbles through the air.

“NO!”

You don’t think twice as you run after the bottle when it begins to descend. You leap on your hind legs and spring into the air, catching it successfully between your buck teeth. But your victory is short lived, and as you fall back to the ground the vile hits the floor and shatters to bits in your mouth.

“ _John!_ ”

Glass mixes with the blood and a heavy taste of cough syrup. Your mouth is bleeding and you try to scrape off the tiny shards with your paws. You are afraid to swallow, but you are choking on your own essences and you have no choice. The glass goes down with the medicine and blood and further cuts up your throat.

Liquid fire. It oozes down into the pit of your stomach and your muscles seize up in agony. You flop on your side and writhe, kicking your legs and rolling on the floor as you cry out.

“John, John, oh darling, my precious…”

You are mewling and squealing loudly at her but she is afraid to hold you, you know she can’t help but you are pleading for mercy as the liquid enters your stomach. Your body is burning, you see nothing but red as something ruptures and tears you open from the inside.

You can hear her sobbing faintly over the loud ringing in your ears. She is moving too, you think, but veins erupt across your vision and you can no longer see. No, you cannot see, and now you cannot hear. You are alone in a dark world full of pain and you want nothing more than to leave your body.

So you do.

-

Pain leaves you. There is nothing. Nothing is scary, it’s too much. You are floating. You are full, but vulnerable. Weightless. A balloon without its string. You need a string.

_Where is your string?_

It’s here, somewhere. No, not there. This balloon has a string. This one also. Here, a string that’s been cut. Useless.

_Here, it’s here!_

Where?

_Here!_

This string has yet to be woven. But it will have to do. You do not want to float away. Not yet.

You tie yourself to your string.

-

God almighty, you feel heavy. Not the full, ate-too-much-at-supper-heavy, but the kind of heavy where you’ve taken too long a nap and your body cannot move.  It presses down, and for a moment you think you have a thousand blankets piled on top of you.

You have a hard time parsing together what happened. When you open your eyes to assess your location, your vision is blurred and everything is too bright. It is difficult, but you lift a heavy, (woah, really heavy) paw and rub your face.

“Mmm…”

 You start, surprised at the noise that vibrates from your chest. Was that really you? Is there another being in the room?

“John?”

It’s Rose’s voice. The sound of it fills you with happiness and your eyes fly open to search for her. But your vision is still too blurry, so you sniff for her instead. Yet even your sense of smell has diminished!

You squirm in your bodily prison and think only to reach; you reach and stretch your weighty limbs and fight to get to her. Then something cool and smooth touches you.

“John? If you can hear me, nod your head,” she says above you. You nod once. Attempting to open your eyes again, you are able to piece together the outline of her head and shoulders. It makes you smile.

Smile?

You touch your paw to your mouth and find it smooth and hairless. Soft, like skin. What.

You lift your paw close to your eyes. No, not paw. Hand. Five, long skinny digits and a forearm that attaches to your shoulder. Hand.

You have hands.

Your jaw drops and your hand begins to tremble as you scream silently. Your other hand clenches into white knuckled fists until your blunt nails dig bloody slits into the peachy skin. Gasping for breath, too much breath, your lungs are enormous and they take up so much air, you are spinning, you are going to pass out-

“Shhh, shhh! Drink this.”

Blindly you obey her, gripping her arm as she helps you place a bottle to your lips and drink. The effects are instantaneous, and your coiled muscles begin to unwind slowly.

Rose’s hand cradles the back of your head as she helps you lower yourself onto the soft cushion. It is so much smaller than it used to be.

Enough time has passed, and you are calm again. You breathe evenly and are tempted to go back to sleep.

“John. It is you, correct?”

She is hiding it well, but she is very obviously frightened of you. Is your new body that terrifying?

You nod and smile weakly again, glad that you now have the capability to convey how you feel. You crack open your eyes and see that Rose is close enough for you to place her features. She is staring like you are an alien that just fell through the roof; fear, with a hint of fascination. This unsettles you somewhat.

The laxative has allowed you to concentrate on all the points of feeling on your body. You know you are in a bed, and there probably are piles of sheets on top of you. The blankets are wet and sticky, soaked with filth. Ugh.

“Mmmghuh…” Your tongue is heavy and knotted in your mouth. The words are there in your head but you can’t quite form them.

“I am going to have to make something to teach the muscles in your mouth how to speak,” she says next to you. “Do not frustrate yourself with it now. Your facial muscles are about at the level of a small infant.”

You nod. She breathes out quickly. A laugh?

“We really did blow the roof off the house, you know,” she smirks. “I’ve been trying to repair it while you were unconscious. But I’m afraid my expertise does not lie in home improvements.”

“Mmmh.”

“Your soul was feisty. It was desperate to find a body. If I hadn’t made the growth formula beforehand it would have ascended.” She sighs. “And that would have been…unfortunate.”

“V…vrrry…”

She smiles. “Go back to sleep. I will be just outside the room. Do not worry, everything will be alright. The worst is over.”

You nod, peeking at her one last time. She stands and leaves your bedside with a final brush to your human hand. The door shuts behind her. Your final thought, before you fall to sleep, is how strange the feel of skin on skin is.

-

It was not actually supposed to happen this way. The cat’s soul was meant to be extracted, and then Rose would grow a body from its naked soul before it ascended, which is just a fancy term for death. But it was yours that was removed, and when your soul touched the formula limbs grew out of it like distorted spider legs. Although the formula was only meant for a single limb, it was able to grow an entire body because it had no basis to form on. It had to create from nothing.

It was very dark magic, Rose explained to you later. She thought that opening the curtains might help, but the living room was still blotched with a dark inky stain that would take weeks to remove.

You are in her bedroom, lavender fittings and curtains draping the windows, sitting up on her bed and sheets still piled on your legs. She is preparing a needle for you, dabbing your shoulder with alcohol and then tapping the tube to rid the bubbles. It’s for your muscles. Without it, you cannot walk or talk.

“Just a few more of these and you will be as well versed as I.” She smirks. “That is, however, the maximum expectation.”

“Pfft. Not…nnnecessary.” Oh, the things you will say to her when you have your speech.

“It’s amazing how much you haven’t changed, despite being an entirely different species.” She pauses what she’s doing to glance at you. “But I’m definitely going to miss some things.”

You have to think about what you’re going to say. “…Like wha?”

She shrugs and hovers the needle over your skin. “Ready?” You nod. It punctures your skin easily and she injects the medicine.

“Rose,” you say after she Band-Aids your shoulder.

She cleans the needle and straightens out her medical kit. “Hm?”

The way she looks at you is different. She is hiding something, and she refuses to let her guard down. You stare, trying to read her like you did before, but you can’t understand the meaning behind the strange glint in her eye. Is it because you are no longer her pet, but an equal? Her purplish eyes are wide and intense, but distant, and your stomach twists unpleasantly. You lean closer to her, trying to close the distance, but she pulls away.

“Careful now, you almost bumped my nose,” she chuckles. But it is empty. You find her hands and hold them in yours, and she inhales quietly, her body freezing up as she stares at the space between you.

“You t-treat mm…me. Differently.” You pull her closer. “Don’…t…” you swallow. “Don’t.”

She looks afraid again, and you have to remind yourself that you are a complete stranger. A stranger with the soul of her best friend. Of course she is scared of you.

She closes her eyes. “I’m sorry, John. I can’t help being on the cautious side. But you are the same, and in time I will get used to your new form. I still love you just as much as when you were my rabbit.”

You grin and move forward to nuzzle her nose like you would before. Your lips brush her skin though and you feel a small tingle in your stomach.

“Yes, um.” She smiles nervously and leans away again. You hate when she does that. “I’m afraid the meaning of those kinds of things is different for humans than it is for animals. So…”

She stops. She doesn’t have to say anymore; you know what she means. And your heart cracks a little bit more.

-

Without your fur, you feel naked and cold all the time. Involuntary shivers rattle your body whenever you do not have your mountains of blankets on top of you. Rose is knitting you clothes to wear like her, but in the mean time you wander around the bedroom without anything to cover you and practice how to walk. The one time you left the room and ran into Rose, she damn near had a heart attack and begged you with her hands over her eyes to go back in her room. You learned about modesty after that, and that your third leg is not something that is supposed to be dangling out in the open.

That was one of the many things that changed between you and her. Rose used to be comfortable; she used to prowl the house in stride, wearing nothing but her smirk and her overflowing confidence as she cleaned and created. Now she always had a layer to cover herself, and this wouldn’t bother you much if it didn’t so obviously take away from her self-confidence.

You are thinking about this as you sit beside her in the living room, watching as she sews you a pair of pants to go with your new shirt. She has already made you several pairs of underwear and a couple socks. They are soft and warm as they hug your skin.

“Why not j-just…use magic?”

“To quicken the process?” You nod.

“Because, you can do just about anything with magic. And I like to take my leisure with sewing and knitting.” She shrugs. “Small pleasures.”

She cuts the tail end of the string with her teeth and holds out the fabric in front of her. “What do you think?”

“Lemme try i’ on.” You hold out your hands and she gives them to you. You stand, concentrating on balancing on your legs. But the technique of putting pants on is still too advanced for you. “Um…”

She gets up to let you sit in her place, then shimmies your pants up your legs while you try to help by lifting your body. After some struggle you have them on, and you stand to admire them.

“Hm, I’m going to have to take in an inch or two off the thighs…” She tugs at the hem of the waist. “I think I nailed the hip fitting though. What do you think?”

You are grinning widely at her. “They’re really comfort…comfortable!”

She is still examining her work, walking around you in circles, and you notice suddenly that Rose is several inches shorter than you. Her head does not reach past your shoulders. You’ve never seen her through this point of view, and you pick out things that you never would have noticed before; like how her hair is not entirely platinum blonde, but has several brown streaks. Or how slight her shoulders are, and how her hips curve outward so… femininely? Daintily? You search desperately for the proper description and she notices you staring.

“What, did you spot a strand of white hair?” She takes a lock from her fringe and examines it carefully. You laugh loudly.

“That’s s-silly. You know tha’ you are already older t-than…the sun itself.”

She gasps, holding an outraged hand to her chest. “You wound me! I am a blossoming flower, flowing eternally with youth. My refulgence is the light that people look to when the sun fails them.” She tosses her hair out of her face. “Old is a poor descriptor.”

“Heheh. Just you w-wait. Until I get my speech. I am going to t-tear you…to pieces. With m-my…” You struggle to get the words past your tongue, and your eyes squeeze shut with the effort. Rose drops her act and looks at you sympathetically.

But she waits until you say what you want to say. And you appreciate that.

“…With my wicked sick burns.”

She grins. “We’ll just have to wait and see, hm?”

She places a hand on your chest. It’s cold, like always, and sends a shiver down your spine. Your eyes meet, and as you try to squint at her still blurred image, you involuntarily lean forward.

She hasn’t pet or touched you since you changed. It’s the biggest and most saddening difference between you both, and it hurts you at night when you think of all the opportunities she had to be affectionate but instead pushed you away. Like now, as you step closer, she takes a corresponding step back and takes her hand away. That strange glint is there in the corner of her eyes again, and she tries to bury it as she holds her arm awkwardly at her side.

“I’ve noticed that your vision is not up to par,” she speaks after staring at your chin for a good minute. “I could help you fix that if you like.”

You frown, but allow the change of subject. “Okay.”

She nods and leaves you to stand alone in your confusion.

-

Glasses were now a permanent accessory for you, just like your clothes and your new boundless energy. Rose was too afraid to experiment with magic on your eyes, so she made a pair of spectacles. Now that you no longer need your shots (just a simple vitamin that you take every other night), and you know that you won’t be tripping on every single piece of clutter Rose leaves about, you can run and dance and talk her ear off. Which you do, and she chastises you like the child you are.

“For God sakes, John, would you please sit down for a minute and eat your supper?” She pulls out her chair at the dining table and sits, folding a napkin in her lap. You are in the kitchen, still experimenting with dishes and different drinks to taste.

“Jus’ a min’!” you muffle, a spoon lodged in your mouth as you carry your creation to the table. You set it down and she examines the contents suspiciously.

“Well, at least it smells appetizing…” She pokes the mass with her fork. It sinks inside. “Um.”

“It’s meatloaf,” you laugh, sitting down across from her and cutting up the meat into squares to serve. “I had a hard time using the proper pan to cook it in, so I just used the pancake bowl.”

She snickers. “Let’s see if it goes well with my mashed potatoes.” She tries some, and you watch her fervently as she chews.

“Mmm. It does! Congratulations, you successfully created a meal without bringing down my entire kitchen with it.”

“So do you like it?” you say as you dig in.

“Yes, it is delicious as always.” She rolls her eyes.

“You’re just envious of my superior cooking skills! I haven’t even been walking on two legs for a full winter and I am already far better at the craft,” you boast proudly.

She shakes her head in shame. “Over confidence is the downfall of the hero. Don’t let a singular victory blow up your head too much.”

“Ah, but this is the first of many! I think I will be taking over the job of the cook from now on if that’s alright.” You mix the meat with the potatoes and take a mouthful. It’s pretty darn good, and your chest swells with pride.

“Only if you promise to be consistent with you meals. I’d rather not remodel the entire kitchen every time you decide to ‘treat’ me.” She scarfs down your food and you smile broadly.

Rose, through all her snark and comeback, does not feel like the lifelong friend she once was to you. She does not visibly tense as much when you are near, but the distance is so plainly there, marooning you an ocean away from each other. You feel like a starving man on an island; lonely, pathetically lonely, unable to use the cloudy skies to navigate back to her. The small touches of her skin drives you wild, teasing reminders of how things used to be and that they’ll never be the same again. She is slipping through your fingers, and it takes all of your willpower not to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, plead with her desperately to return things to how they used to be.

You are still her best friend, and you will always be there for her when she needs you. But sometimes you ask yourself if it is enough. Will you ever have enough of her?

-

You are lying in your bed in the spare room, converted from guest room to storage room and back to bedroom for you to use. It’s dark, and you are having trouble sleeping. That is when you hear a small cry.

Nightmares were once common place in your modest magical home. Rose would thrash in her sleep, sweating bullets and moaning nonsense into the darkness as you stirred awake on the other side of the house. On these nights she would wake with a cry, and with tears streaking her face she would take you from your cage and back to her room, and she would hold you to her chest until she fell back into a fitful sleep. This hasn’t happened in a long time, and you’ve forgotten about them until you hear her distress from across the hall. You react quickly and leave your room on hurried feet.

You knock haltingly on her door. “Rose?” You knock louder. “Rose, is everything alright?”

The door creaks when it opens. Light floods the hallway from the candle lit in her hand. She is wearing her flowing night gown that you watched her make years ago. “Yes, everything is fine. I just broke one of my figurines.” She moves aside enough to show you the shattered glass elephant on the floor. “I am sorry I woke you.”

No tears. But something is definitely off. “How did you break it?”

“Oh, just a clumsy mistake. I had gotten up to retrieve a glass of water but accidently bumped into the shelf and knocked over the decorative. Silly me.” She tries to close the door.

“Wait.” She pauses. “I’m, uh.” You scratch the back of your neck. Think, you have one chance. “I’m having trouble sleeping. Nightmares.” She examines your features carefully, concerned.

“I don’t think there’s any remedy for it.” You place your hand on the doorway and open it a little more. “Do you think you could help me?”

She bites her lip and frowns worriedly to the side. “I don’t know. It’s not, I’m not-” Her voice wavers. She is sailing further away from you.

“I can sleep on the floor.” You are careful, tiptoeing around your words and ready to pull back in a second if she shows any more discomfort.

She is hesitant, but she gives, and steps aside to allow you in. “Be careful of the glass.”

“Right.” You tip toe literally around the broken pieces and find your resting place next to her bedside. She is behind you, setting the candle on the nightstand and rubbing her drooping eyes. You don’t need a pillow or blanket, so you lie down on the wooden floor and place your head in your hands.

“John,” she hisses from above you, and you crack an eye open to look at her as she settles on the bed. “As much as I appreciate the sentiment, you don’t have to sleep on such a place. You can come here.”

Your heart stills momentarily in your chest, and you have to tell yourself to keep breathing. “Are you sure you are comfortable enough?”

She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Yes. Please, come here.”

Robotically, you grunt out an agreement and heave yourself off the ground. She looks at you tiredly. You do not see that strange glint in her eyes that you usually spot in moments like these, so you crawl onto the mattress. The bed divots as you find a comfortable spot next to her.  You slide the sheets over yourself and Rose lays her head on the pillow.

She looks at you. You look at her. The candle light is flickering, casting dancing shadows across the walls and over her pale, pink tinged face. You lick your lips, open your mouth and breathe,

“You forgot to blow out the candle.”

She seems startled. “Oh.” She doesn’t move right away, but eventually turns around and engulfs the room in darkness. You hear her swallow and the sheets rustle as she lies back down.

It’s the steady, even sound of her breathing that makes you believe she fell back asleep. Seconds roll into minutes, and you are still having difficulties relaxing. Her being so close doesn’t help like you thought it would. You fuss with the hem of the blanket, unsure if your eyes are open or closed. Rose stirs next to you.

She sighs. “John.” Her voice is thick and loud in the heavy darkness. You like hearing her say your name.

“Yeah?”

You shift closer to her.

“I want to tell you something. I think…” She is silent, and you know she is trying hard to get the words out before she can run away. “I think that I’ve been acting mendacious towards you. My reservations have taken an effect on us, we’ve grown distant-”

She chokes on her breath. It shudders from her lungs and the bed shakes when she moves. Her toes brush up against yours. It sends electric sparks up your spine and ignites a desire that burns hot embers over every nerve in your body.

“I don’t like it. You are the same, but I am treating you as if you are not, and…”

You dare to reach through the darkness and place a hand on her cheek. Her voice is just barely above a whisper, a quiet breath that struggles to escape past her worrying lips.

“I miss you…”

You pull her into your arms before her quickening breaths can turn into a sob. Wetness smears on your chest as your legs tangle around hers and your hand pets the back of her hair. She curls into you, her body quaking with small tremors.

She misses you just the same. Though as a rabbit or as a friend, you are unsure.

You laugh bleakly into her hair. “It’s funny, how our roles have reversed. Was I this small to you when you held me?”

She sniffs, her voice muffled and runny. “I am afraid you were much smaller. I had nightmares of rolling over and crushing you in my sleep.”

You chortle. “I’m afraid you did, more than once. You are a very violent sleeper, Rose!”

She laughs genuinely. Warmth flutters in your stomach, your hand sliding down her back as hers shift across your chest. It causes you to shiver, and a different kind of heat shoots to the center of your hips.

“Did you know,” she giggles drunkenly, lifting her face up so her words are more audible. “When your soul grew a body, I had to haul you myself to my bedroom? Not only were you heavy, but you were stark naked!” When she laughs her breath ghosts across your neck. “I was so embarrassed; me, centuries old master of witchcraft, blushing like a virginal damsel. It was quite the sight.”

You laugh with her. “But you  _are_  a virginal damsel!”

“Yes, in the literal sense. I have memorized the anatomy of both the female and male human body, and yet it was much more frightening than I expected in person.”

You gasp. “Frightening? Rose, your words stab my heart like the knife that cuts through my meatloaf. Surely you don’t mean what you are saying?”

“But I do, John!  I would describe the horrifying way in which it dangled like a limp tentacle between your legs, but a maiden of my caliber does not use such debauched vocabulary.”

“Rose you are as much a maiden as I am.”

“I can hear you rolling your eyes. Sarcasm is a sin, John. Haven’t you read the bible?”

“If sarcasm is a sin then you have double sinned, and I am dragging you down to hell with me.”

“Only if you plan to help me overtake the throne?”

You grin. “Of course.”

Her laughter dies to quiet puffs of breath. She is so close, the closest she’s been since the accident. You are tingly everywhere and she is warm in your arms.

It feels like the right thing to do, so you press a kiss to her forehead. She grows quiet, and the conversation fizzles out to naught.

You thought for a moment that your hearts were beating in sync. But you were wrong, and even as you sleep peacefully in each other’s arms, Rose is no closer to you than she was when you were across the hall.

Wrapped entirely in one another, the two of you fall asleep before you get the chance to say goodnight.

-

Mornings inspire you. The sun breaks over the horizon and casts fragments of light through the open windows and backdoor. Rose is still asleep, and her breakfast waits for her on the dining table as you sit by the fireplace. Her spell book is to your right, and to your left is a bottle of one of her homemade potions.

In your hand is another of her porcelain figurines. The wide-eyed owl is curious and fretful as you mutter the incantation close to its ear.

It can flap its wings; it can stretch and expand a full arms width, and it can even make a quiet ‘hoo’ sound when it spots something interesting. But no matter what you say, you cannot make it fly. It frustrates you to pulling hairs and if you’re not careful you will drop it, and the poor thing would definitely shatter to pieces and you’d never live it down.

A dragonfly zooms in from outside and swirls around your head before settling on your shoulder. It’s a pretty one, something that Rose would like to play with if she managed to captured it.

“You know,” you say to it, trying to read through the passage again, “if I were still a rabbit, I would have eaten you by now. And I bet you would have been delicious.” As if understanding you, the fly lifts off your shoulder and flutters out the door. You sigh, frustrated, and gently set the fragile creature on the floor in front of you.

In a rush of air the backdoor slams shut, and you whip your head up to see what closed it.

“Please keep this door closed, something could wander in,” Rose says, approaching you and straightening her dress before sitting down.

_‘Or out,’_ you think, grabbing the heavy reading material and placing it in your lap.

She looks over your shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“…I’ve been charming your decorations all morning. It’s really fun, but I can’t figure out how to make this guy fly for the life of me.” You find and murmur the same passage again, but it only seems to aggravate the owl as it flaps its wings harder. At least it’s kicking up wind.

“Here, let me try.” Carefully, Rose takes the animal from your hands and holds it up to eye level. Very lovingly, she whispers,

_‘Placere volatum.’_

The bird hears her and blinks owlishly, then slowly lifts its wings to their full expanse and flaps three times. Faster and faster until Rose’s hair is fluttering like feathers, the owl lifts off her hand and hovers in the air. You cannot contain your excitement and clutch to her sleeve as your finger follows it around the kitchen and through the display of fantastical creatures that cause a ruckus of down and dust as they cheer for it.

It twirls once around Rose’s head, and she smiles up at it kindly and waves before it turns away and flies out an open window. The caws and coos of the other figurines die down and the house is once again still.

“Wow,” you turn to her, grinning breathlessly. “That was incredible. But how did you do it? I’ve been chanting that same phrase for the past hour!”

She shrugs modestly. “Sometimes you just have to ask nicely.”

“Oh,” you say.

“…”

“…”

You cough. “So, how have the nightmares been?” You haven’t slept with her since that night.

She smiles. “Better.”

She is lying.

“They’ve been much less horrific lately. I’ve gotten plenty of good nights’ rest.” The bags under her eyes say otherwise.

You frown at her. “Rose, you are a terrible liar.”

She sighs and twiddles her thumbs. “It’s fine. I’m fine. They’re not so bad; there is a point at which I become used to it-”

“Why are you still having nightmares?” you cut in. You hope your frustration and worry conveys clearly enough. Her eyes widen a hair and she leans away from you.

“I don’t know, I can’t really help it.”

“They were supposed to go away when you made me. You aren’t supposed to be lonely or afraid anymore. Why does it keep happening?”

“John, it’s not such a big issue-”

“It is! You’re hurting, you’re in pain, and I still can’t help you even when I’m the same species. I was better off an animal- you were more open and confident with me.”

“John-”

“You don’t talk to me anymore. You keep it all inside and you’re not getting better. It feels like I’m miles away from you! I can’t touch you or be close anymore… I-I see that look in your eyes- you’re afraid of me.”

“That’s-”

“How long will it take? How many years of sleepless nights will we go through before you love me again? I can’t take it anymore, I want things to be the same again, I want my Rose back-”

“John!”

She slaps her hands over your cheeks and squeezes your lips shut. Water threatening to leak drips over the brim of your eyes and runs over her fingers. She wipes it away with her thumbs.

“You are right about all those things.” She takes a kerchief from her pocket and dabs at your cheeks. “Except, you are misunderstanding something.”

You nip her palm when she doesn’t stop wiping your cheeks. She smiles tenderly at you and pulls her hand away.

“Being close to another human is a lot stranger than I was prepared for.” Her knees touch yours when she sits closer to you. “I’ve been trying to approach this problem through an analytical point of view, deciphering it much like a math problem or the composition of an intricate spell. But I thought too deeply on the issue. It was much simpler than I expected.”

The witch removes your dirtied spectacles and cleans them on the hem of her shirt. When she pushes them back up your nose, she brushes the bangs out of your face and behind your ears. Your chest burns like your swollen eyes, clenching in your throat and throbbing painfully in your aching lungs.

She lifts your chin so you can look at her. “We cannot bond in the same way as we did before because I do not view you in the same light.”

You do not understand. You sniff and wipe under your nose with your hand.

You wait patiently as she searches for her courage. Pink colors her cheeks and her mouth opens and closes again as she revises her thoughts. The glint is there again, but you cannot see it as fear anymore. No, it’s definitely something else.

“I view you as something more than a friend now. But it’s not a friendship so innocent as pet and owner. It is between two humans. And…”

She swallows and you realize how embarrassing for her this is.

“You are a man. And I cannot help but see you as such.”

The glint becomes a shining, iridescent glow that melts all of the ice in your heart and warms you to the tips of your fingers. Everything snaps together, it is all so clear now, and you berate yourself for not seeing it sooner because it is so _obvious_.

You grab her by the shoulders and hug her tightly in your arms, squeezing and swaying to the side until she pats your chest for release. “Sorry.” You let go and just stare at her, brimming excitement.

But wait.

Rose has told you the problem. But she has not told you the solution. The problem that has been pervading your home for centuries still exists. She is lonely, and now you are lonely with her. The solution that you have proposed hasn’t worked- it has created more issues- and she is still troubled by the same woes and pain that creates her internal horrors.

“John? What is it?”

You look at the closed door.

-

It was your mistake to think that knowing why she was distant would remove the tension in the atmosphere. You are lucky if she even looks at you directly now. Though you can place when she casts her eyes away and her face burns a rosy red, it does not quiet the voice in your head that tells you to scream  _’Look at me!’_

You feel so, so alone.

But you are not allowed to feel this way. She’s been hurting for so much longer. You couldn’t help her before, but now that you can, you are wallowing in your own misery.

Disgraceful.

You lock yourself in your room nowadays. There is no point in coming out, not for food or drink or sun. Its’ light is fading with the season. Days are shorter. Nights are longer. You miss the light.

But you don’t need it, and it doesn’t need you.

You know the solution. It’s been there, right in front of you, just within reach, but you never wanted to grasp it. With her you sought an answer that would be easier to face, yet it was just an excuse to run further away from the truth.

The both of you are dying, and you cannot save each other.

There is a subtle knock on your door. At first you think you are imagining it, but when it opens to reveal Rose groomed and ready for bed, you remove the book from your lap and slip on a shirt to look decent. She has never entered your room before.

“Is something wrong?”

She moves to sit at the edge of your bed and sighs. “It is not that something is wrong. It is just that nothing is right.”

You should tell her. She won’t like it, but she needs to hear it.

“Rose. Can you promise me something?”

Her brows furrow. “Hm? What is it?”

God she is so beautiful. A magical creature of the light, she glows during the day, but shimmers incandescent in the shadows. Pale, full lips and flawless skin that you know to be soft and warm. The ghost of a feeling, a yielding softness against your body and a steady, thumping beat at the center of her chest. You remember, you feel a pathetic shiver of sensation crawling under your skin when she is near.

You wonder if you can still be her friend if you are a man.

“Promise me,” you say, flat toned, “that you won’t run away anymore.”

She is confused. “I’m not sure what you are talking about, John.”

“We have to get out of here,” you mutter hurriedly, moving closer to her and ensuring she won’t leave. “The house, living here, it’s killing us. I didn’t know this because I wasn’t human before, but having only one companion is not enough. People need people, having just me is insufficient. It’s making you sick. I am feeling that sickness already; I can’t imagine living with it for decades.”

“No,” her eyes are wide and fearful, pupils blown and arms held in front of her, ready to push you away. “I just need a few years to grow used to you. I only need you John. Whether that is as a friend, or a man, I do not know yet.”

“You don’t understand!” you shout a little too loudly in her face. She flinches and your stomach clenches with guilt. “You need people, period. You need them for something to hate, and for something to blame when the world hates you. You need friends, you need people to seek for help when you can’t bear the burden alone anymore.”

Her body quivers as you continue, her face scrunching up and her hands moving to cover her ears. You grab them and hold them tightly in front of her.

“Stop running away. Don’t you get it? You are going to  _die_. We need to leave and end this nightmare.”

“No…!”

You are gripping her hands too harshly. “It’s been the answer all along. You can’t fix this problem with magic, you must overcome your fear and-”

“NO!”

She is sobbing openly, heaving gasps for breath as she yanks her hands away. You let her, feeling the icy chill of guilt douse your anger cold. She covers her face and cries.

“I am hated and unwanted. Centuries may have passed but people do not change!” she sobs. “I have given my love freely one too many times. And now I am losing the only friend who has ever returned my sentiments. Please, please don’t do this. I cannot take it anymore!”

You hate yourself. “Please stop crying, Rose…” You are afraid to touch her. The barrier between you is more present than ever. “I’m sorry I was yelling at you. I didn’t mean to upset you like this.”

Her sobs have turned to quiet hiccups. She avoids looking at you directly. You wish you had something to wipe her tears away. All you have is your hands, but they’ve never done you any good before.

“I love you,” you murmur, leaning closely to her ear so your words are just hot breath against her neck. “You will always have my love. A-and you will always be my most cherished friend. The thought of you losing me is absurd.” You dare to kiss the crown of her head. Her swollen eyes open enough to look up at you. Gently you take her face in your hands and pull her closer. The smell of baking soda and rosemary wafts from her skin.

“Don’t leave me.” She holds your gaze with hers. You rub away the wetness from her cheeks.

“Never. We can leave together. Tomorrow. Pack our things and never look back. It’ll be an adventure.”

“Adventure?” She smirks a wobbly, kind hearted smirk. “Such a phrase is not a part of my extensive knowledge of the English language. Care to elaborate a little more?”

“We’ll see knew places. Haven’t you ever wanted to know what Rome looks like? Or France?” You paint the picture for her imagination. “Think of visiting all the places we’ve read about. We could see the ocean, the desert. Something besides these dark woods. And all the while we will meet new and interesting people.”

“And what if they spit me back like they did then? What if we are hated?” She shudders.

“Then we are hated together. And together we will move on. I am sure that there are people out there that will not hate us, and maybe even consider us their friends.”

“Friends,” she mutters dreamily. “A friend other than John. The very thought of it seems incredible.”

Your arms encircle her waist. “We can finally leave this imperfect world.”

Her fingers are warm and firm as they grip your hair. “That sounds absolutely marvelous.”

You grin brightly. “Spectacular.”

“Enchanting?” She leans in.

“Magical.”

Your lips touch, and all the world behind you slips away.

-

-

“It’s a beautiful day.”

“It is.”

“…”

“Have you checked the garden?”

“Yes, I made my rounds around the house and everything looks perfect. As if it matters though.”

“It’s important to me. Someone could stop by and decide to occupy it. I want it looking nice for its new owner.”

“Haha. Well in that case everything looks perfect for the new owner of our house. Do you have the book?”

“Yes. It’s the only thing I packed. It’s the only thing we’ll need.”

The clock chimes twelve. The pendulum swings three times before the echoing ring stops.

“It will be fun,” you promise her, over and over as you button up her travelling coat. She fixes the collar of your shirt and straightens out the wrinkles on your jacket. “Is that comfortable?”

“Yes.”

Rose rests her hands on your chest. She is blushing, probably thinking of the night previous, and you are too as you take her hand and fold it in yours. The barrier is broken. You could not be closer to her than you were last night as you breached her most personal boundary. You remember how she sighed your name, how hot delirium washed over your bodies as you pushed impossibly close and she clutched impossibly tight. What you have is so much more than friendship.

You kiss each of her knuckles to remind her and she smiles serenely.

“Who knew a bunny could be such a romantic?”

You shrug. “I have my secrets.” You flash your overbite and waggle your eyebrows. “And a magician never reveals his secrets.”

She chuckles softly. “You are the magician’s assistant. There are no secrets for you to hide, because I already know them all.”

“That is only half true, milady.” You spontaneously produce a hat from your coat. “After all, you only know what is inside the rabbit’s hat after you pull it out!” You bow for her graciously. She claps her hands together.

“Then why don’t we get this performance on the road my darling?” Sarcasm oozes from the mischievous spark in her eyes. You offer your arm and she takes it, and you make your way to the foyer.

Your steps are light. With each second you are closer to the door, you feel lighter. Weightless. A dizzying, narcotic feeling that you akin to inhaling too quickly. It’s…

“Intoxicating.”

You agree full heartedly. Arms linked, you reach the end of the hall and throw the door open. The sun blinds you both with light. Smells of grass, wood and pine flood your senses.

Adventure, you remind yourself. Fear is part of the excitement.

“Are you ready?” you ask her.

She takes one long, wistful look behind her. The curtains are drawn, cabinets shut and figurines still. The house is somber and quiet.

And just miles away from the house, unaware by the two lovers, a porcelain owl lays shattered on the forest floor.

She turns back and looks at you once, then at her feet.

She takes the first step.

.

.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this with the intention of writing cute/fluffy johnrose moments. but everything spiraled out of control. i am so sorry.


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